


We Are All In This Together

by PeakyFookinBlinders (Sherlocked729)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Bodily Injuries, Depression, Domestic Boyfriends, F/M, Guys helping Guys, Harry and Draco getting on each other's nerves, Hermione Is there but maybe not a majorly main character, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Suicide Attempt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insomnia, M/M, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, PTSD, PTSD related hallucinations, Panic Attacks, Polyamory, Post-War, Self-Destruction, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, and also Girl Helping Guys, everyone is hurting, like six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, maybe bordering on schizophrenia though?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22497796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked729/pseuds/PeakyFookinBlinders
Summary: Was formerly named "Divided We Stand, Together We'll Fall."   Six months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Draco finds himself in dire straits and ends up at who else than Harry Potter's doorstep? This story is about how two men must overcome their differences and past to help each other as they both still suffer bad memories of The War and what happened not long after.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry/Hermione, harry/hermione/draco
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	1. run-in

**Author's Note:**

> Not my first HP fic, but my first Drarry fanfic. 
> 
> Also, I've taken liberties with locations, magic, healing, spells, as well as curses. If something isn't exactly right, I probably did it on purpose and/or I had my reasons for doing it so please don't nitpick. Just sit back and enjoy the ride :) 
> 
> However, comments are super appreciated and encouraged! (Plus they make me write faster)
> 
> Hope you like!

**. . .**

  
It had been nearly eight months since the war had ended, and six months since the trials. Draco had dreaded that day because a person was missing that should had been there, and just wasn’t.

His mother.

It wasn’t the shame of his father or being disgraced by the wizarding world that killed her, Draco had realized the day it had happened; it had been the darkness that had been creeping up on her for so many years and his father being sent to Azkaban had been the final nail in her coffin.

Draco shook his thoughts away from his mother. It always hurt to think about her now. He had done two months in Azkaban for aiding the Death Eaters, but he knew it would have been a lot longer had Harry Potter not tried to help him.

In that time in Azkaban, however, they had Oblivated him. They wanted him to forget about how he had helped the wrong side and instead planted real memories instead of fake of how many people had died _because_ of him. They implanted screams of terror and cries so that Draco would, or could, ever forget the innocent lives. Something else had gone wrong though, either they overextended the spell or were rushing through it because now Draco suffered bouts of memory loss.

There were times he would simply forget who he was, his name, his past life, the War, other people, and the memory loss sent him into panic attacks half the time. Other times he knew exactly who he was and what he had done, and then the nightmares plagued him, so it was easier not to sleep.

It was raining and Draco Malfoy was cold and wet, and he couldn’t remember the last time he ate or slept. He was so tired, and he kept his hood up as he trudged into the pub in Hogsmeade and sat down on a stool.

He kept his head down as he gruffly ordered a firewhiskey. He needed something to help stop the cries in his head; usually alcohol did the trick.

Draco had almost finished his drink when he heard the sound of a familiar voice in the pub.

“Two whiskeys, please.”

Draco knew that voice anywhere, even with memory gaps. Harry fucking Potter, of course it was, though. He kept his head low, his hands trembling as he tried to hold his glass still. He made sure his Mark was covered.

“How goes the Death Eater hunting, Mr. Potter?”

A beat of silence before he saw Harry slowly look up at the bartender out of the corner of his eye. “I wouldn’t know. I quit being an Auror months ago.”

There was no other questions from the bartender; he just nodded in acknowledgement and began to serve someone else. Draco cringed as he tried to get comfortable on the bar stool, feeling his bruises twinge with pain.

“ ‘Scuse me, mister,” a gruff voice suddenly spoke, near Draco. “I ain’t ever seen you in ‘ere. My god, are you… you look an awful like that Malfoy son --”

“He’s not,” Harry’s voice suddenly interrupted the man. “He’s my friend. Now, please let us drink our drinks in peace now, yeah?”

Draco watched as the man eyed him suspiciously before walking away again. He tensed, unable to relax. Never able to relax anymore. Harry had helped him. He _knew_ who he was.

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” Harry whispered as he sipped his whiskey.

Draco turned to look at him, a part of his hood still blocking his face, but he could see Harry didn’t look so perfect anymore; there was a thin white scar that curved down his cheek to from under his eye to his jaw.

“I could say the same about you too,” Draco tiredly drawled, sighing softly as he finished his whiskey.

The two men sat in a silence for a long time, Harry finishing his drink and then motioned for Draco to follow him out. The blonde was hesitant to do so at first but figured maybe this was for the best; maybe he could stop walking on this earth like a skeleton and finally be where he truly belonged, _in_ the earth.

The thought of his own death had crossed his mind many times; he couldn’t deny it. He had so much guilt inside of him that he felt like he might burst with it. He felt like screaming, like the voices he was cursed to hear now.

He followed Harry out and started feeling anxious when he realized he had led Draco into an alleyway between two buildings.

“Are you going to kill me now, Potter?” Draco asked softly, no sign of hatred or contempt in his voice.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “You heard me in there, I don’t hunt Death Eaters anymore. You’re no exception, Malfoy.”

Draco nodded, wanting to feel relief, but instead was met only with disappointment. He held his sleeves over his hands awkwardly, using his one arm to hug his body, trying to hold himself together.

He suddenly saw worry touch Harry’s eyes. “Are… are you hurt?”

Draco nodded. “It’s nothing you should worry about. I deserved what I got.”

Harry looked around and seeing that the street was becoming busier, he turned back to Draco. “I have a flat not far from here. Come back home with me. I’ll take a look at it.”

“Still the hero, after all our years together,” Draco half whispered.

“I guess it’s a habit I find difficult to break,” the other man shrugged, eyeing the ex-Slytherin’s body carefully to see if he was hurt anywhere else but he couldn’t tell. “So… will you?”

Draco sighed heavily, looking around in the dark, almost paranoid. He looked back at Harry and searched his face before he shook his head finally in answer.

“Why not?”

He looked conflicted, like he wanted to say something other than what he was about to say, which in true Malfoy fashion, would not be very nice, and Harry wasn’t disappointed.

“Because I just _can’t_! You don’t get to have answers anymore, Potter. That’s your problem; you were spoiled in school with them… you had all the bloody answers to everything well, guess what? School’s over, the war’s over, and you don’t get to have answers anymore,” Draco declared, nearly spitting with an anger that Harry couldn’t understand completely.

It was evident that Draco was talking about more than just some answers, but Harry had put himself out there to help Draco and was returned with ungratefulness. He just felt eager to rid himself of Draco now.

“Fine, whatever, Malfoy. Before I leave you to do whatever you’re going to do next, a few words… I don’t have all the answers, I never did! I’ve always been left with more questions, and I still am! School may be over, but the true war is not, and not you nor anyone else is going to be able to convince me otherwise.”

Harry turned around and walked away from Draco, leaving him standing alone in the alleyway to head back to his own flat.

The blonde ran his hand through his hair before spitting on the ground where Harry had been and took a last look around before he started down the street, avoiding the streetlamps. His problem since the war had ended was that he had let himself be seen by too many people, mostly Death Eaters who blamed Draco for their loss, or blamed him for something else that he never knew about.

He held himself together with one arm still as he walked before he started towards the abandoned flat he had been staying at. It had been on the verge of collapse, windows broken, and filled with many unsavory folk, but it was still a roof over his head, and that’s what he needed the most right now. Despite wanting to go back to the Manor for a few sentimental belongings, he refrained. He knew it was too dangerous for him to go back there, so he went from shitty house to shitty house, trying to stay out of the elements and away from rogue Death Eaters that wanted to kill him.

He crept into one of the empty rooms and closed and locked the door behind him, walking over to the dirty comforter on the floor and lay down, using his good arm as a pillow before he moved his legs close to his body to keep as much warmth as he could, closing his eyes in exhaustion.

**…….. .. ……………**

Draco woke up to the sound of yelling sometime in the middle of the night, but he wasn’t sure exactly what time it was; the sun wasn’t yet up so it had to be late.

He heard screams and sick laughter and then his door was kicked open, the weak lock on it instantly shattering to the floor. He stood up as quickly as his ribs would allow him and took a step back, watching as a familiar face started to walk towards him.

“Draco Malfoy,” he greeted in satisfaction. “It’s been too long, don’t you think?”

He didn’t think he was sure of that. “Actually, I don’t think it’s been long enough, Blaise. What brings you here?”

The other man looked at him darkly, his wand in his hand. Draco eyed the wand cautiously, wondering if this was the end of the line for him. He felt nauseous at the thought that he almost welcomed it, if it was.

“I’m here for you, actually. There’s a new Death Eater in charge now, Draco, and you’ve been summoned. Why don’t you come and join us?”

His blood turned to ice in his veins now, his instincts suddenly screaming at him to run, as fast as he could away from Zabini. He swallowed hard, trying to plant his feet firmly in place on the floor, his heart racing frantically.

“I’m not sure if I want to join you, Blaise,” Draco answered coolly. “I think I’d prefer to just be on my own for now.”

Blaise smirked now and took a step towards his ex-friend. “It’s rather dangerous to be a Death Eater and alone these days. It’s safer to be in a group. We can protect each other from outside threats.”

Draco tongued his lip that had been cut last week when he had been jumped and beaten to a pulp. He was still healing, and it didn’t go over his head that Blaise was threatening him rather than inviting him. Being along _was_ dangerous, and both of them knew it, but it was rogue Death Eaters like Blaise that were the danger.

“I’m good where I am,” Draco stated firmly. “As far as I can see, _you’re_ the only outside threat.”

Blaise chuckled coldly now before he shook his head, taking another step towards Draco. This made the other man instinctively take a step towards the door. “Ah ah ah,” he said warningly, still smirking, “Don’t make this harder for you than it already is.”

He then ran at Draco, slamming him against the wall hard, and punched him, once… twice… three times.

 _Damn it._ The cut on his lip had opened back up again, and now he felt warm blood making trails out of his nostrils and down to his lips as pain shot through his nose. He coughed as he tasted the blood in his throat before he spit it out at Blaise.

“You fucking prick!” The other man cursed before Draco made a dash for the door, causing Blaise to lift his wand up and then he turned around to face the hallway.

“Imperio!” yelled Blaise as a shot of yellow light narrowly missed Draco’s legs.

He ran, and then he ran some more, scrambling down the stairs as he made it outside in the cold again. The streetlights were dimmed even more than before, and he suspected that had been Blaise’s doing. He ran in between buildings, through alleyways, over fences and gates until he had to lean up against the back of a brick wall to catch his breath, his lungs burning red hot with panic and pain.

He could still hear footsteps near him, and then he heard Blaise’s voice.

“Draco… don’t be thick. You can’t hide forever! We’ll find you eventually, and when we do, we’re going to burn down your world, and everyone in it…”

Draco closed his eyes, pressing himself harder against the building. He heard his heartbeat in his ears and didn’t dare move until he heard the footsteps start off in another direction. He took this opportunity to hurry down the alleyway, jumping over another gate before he started to look for another place to hide.

He looked around and saw a light in one of the windows in a flat nearby; he might be safe there. Draco hurried over to the house and tried the knob but found out it was locked.

“Shit…” he sighed before he decided to try his luck. Death Eaters probably wouldn’t have a light in their windows. They did their best to keep a low profile if they could help it. Draco knocked on the door quickly, but as quietly as he could.

He glanced around again just as the door opened and shock swallowed him whole. His eyes widened almost pleadingly as he found himself staring into Harry’s eyes.

“H-Help me…” he nearly whimpered.


	2. one day at a time

**. . .**

Draco knew he had no right to ask Harry for help; he had been reminded several times what side he was supposed to be on, and it was always against him. Now he stood in front of this man, who was looking at a loss for words but nonetheless, moved out of the way quickly to let Draco inside, and then closed and locked the door behind the blonde.

Harry’s green eyes cast Draco up and down before he cleared his throat to collect himself, seemingly unsure where to start. There was something else behind his eyes though, maybe suspicion? Either way that was fine since Draco didn’t know if he could completely trust Harry either.

“Right, so… we should probably get your injuries taken care of before anything else. Umm… follow me,” Harry instructed as he led Draco through he small flat and into the bathroom where he motioned for Draco to take off his shirt.

At first the other man was taken back but realized what was happening and gingerly took off his shirt. He looked away; he didn’t need to see the disgust at Draco’s many scars that littered his body from curses, beatings, and punishments. He knew what was there.

He watched apprehensively as Harry started to take care of his immediate, bleeding wounds on his back and chest before he looked eye level at Draco and took out his wand. Instinctively, Draco took a frightened step back, flinching but not going for his wand.

The reaction made Harry stare at him with a sort of pity in his eyes. “I-It’s all right, Malfoy. I’m… I’m just going to fix your broken nose, yeah?” He searched his grey, stormy eyes and saw the fear slowly disappear from them and he raised his wand once again, remembering the incantation Luna had used on him when this very man had broken his nose only a few years ago. “Episkey…”

Draco groaned as the bones in his nose quickly healed themselves, snapping back into place again. Draco coughed a little bit and the small amount of coughing snowballed into a long coughing fit. He soon found himself doubling over now, making sure to get himself near the sink as small flecks of blood stained the porcelain as well as Draco’s alabaster chin.

Harry’s body tensed up. “We… we need to get you to St. Mungos.”

“N-No,” Draco shook his head, coughing a little bit more before letting out a small wheeze. “No h-hospital…”

Harry didn’t need to ask why not, and the answer seemed to hang in the air heavy between them; the undeniable reality that many people still saw the Malfoy name as a blight on their worlds, a threat, something disgusting and unacceptable. There was the very real possibility that if Harry did take him to St. Mungos, they either would choose not to help heal Draco, or Death Eaters still loyal to Voldemort would kill him for being a traitor.

“Right,” Harry sighed, thinking. Then they both heard a noise from upstairs. Draco tensed again, ready to run out of the flat but Harry put out his arm, signaling for him to stop. “Wait, it’s all right. I know who that is. Just… stay right here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“I-I should go,” Draco stammered, feeling flight taking over fight, afraid that this thing had been a trick and coming here was a huge mistake. Maybe Harry had lied before and he still was working as an Auror.

Harry seemed to be able to read his mind because he turned his entire body to face Draco and seeing the terror in the man’s eyes made his own soften.

“I promise you’re safe here, Draco. I just want to help you, I swear. Please… just stay right here, yeah? I’ll be right back,” he magicked a glass of water into his hand before he handed it to Draco and disappeared out of the room.

Draco took a sip of water and suddenly realized how thirsty he actually was. He couldn’t remember the last time he even had a glass of cold water. He started to foolishly drink it all down quickly in one go, which proved to be a mistake because he started coughing and wheezing, spitting the water into the sink.

He gripped the sides of the sink with his fingers tightly as he coughed, his heart hammering in his chest at the amount of crimson that came up and soon his lungs weren’t working anymore. He sunk to his knees, tears in his eyes as he gasped for air.

“Draco!”

He saw Harry on the tiled floor in front of him through his tears but the corners of his eyes were becoming dark with spots and he could feel himself quickly starting to lose consciousness.

“Calm down, Harry,” a female voice echoed in Draco’s head. “It’s going to be all right. Draco… Draco, can you hear me?”

The blonde was having difficulty pinpointing who the voice belonged to but it sounded soothing so he nodded.

“Okay, we need you to lay down, okay? Harry, please grab a towel and lay it behind him,” she instructed. Once he had done so, Draco laid down on his back on top of it, and suddenly, the world went away and everything went black.

**……….. … …………..**

**  
** When Draco woke up, he coughed a little but it quickly subsided and he realized that he could breathe better than before. He jumped now, looking around as he attempted to remember where he was.

_He was at Harry’s flat near Hogsmeade._

He took a deep breath, savoring the amount of oxygen pumping through his lungs again. He looked outside and saw the sun just coming up. He had been asleep for a while.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Mind if I ask you a few questions, Malfoy?” Harry’s voice was kind, but serious.

Draco shook his head. If it meant that he had a safe place to stay away from Death Eaters, then he felt like he would answer anything Harry asked him. He ran his hands through his hair before cringing; he never truly cared about how his hair looked but feeling the dirt and oil in it was enough to put him off.

“You can use my shower after you answer some things for me first, okay?” Draco nodded, not trusting his voice just yet. “Good. So… Hermione told me your lungs were punctured. Do you have any idea what happened?”

Draco tried to think back to the day when it had happened, and he remembered the pain so violently, that it almost made him want to cough again. It wasn’t that he hadn’t felt the sharp, cold pain from it, but he had been focused more on hiding and getting away from enemies that he didn’t let himself think about it.

“It was about… four days ago?” Draco questioned to himself in thought. “I… I was trying to get away from someone and he threw a curse at me, but I rolled out of the way and hit the wall pretty hard. I guess it’s been a busy few days, I didn’t think much of it.”

He despised himself for being so talkative.

_You can’t trust him. He could still be an Auror, no matter what he says._

“Sounds like you’ve been keeping busy. What have you been doing this whole time, Malfoy? Just… jumping around from place to place?”

Draco sighed, straightening up in bed now so he was in a sitting position. He rubbed his eyes but was quiet now, afraid to rat himself out to him. He looked at Harry unsurely before he looked down at his slender hands.

_Merlin, when was the last time he even ate anything?_

Harry saw him shutting down and he sighed softly but turned to him, deciding to try a different question. “Do… do you still have it?”

Draco looked at him and searched Harry’s eyes before he pushed his sleeve up that covered the entangled snake on his forearm. “Still there.”

Harry looked down at it, quiet for a long time before he stood up and suddenly looked conflicted. His calm demeanor changed and there was an almost angry panic on his face. Draco blinked, his emotions soon reflecting Harry’s.

“Did you expect it to be gone, Potter? Don’t think I haven’t tried…”

This rhetorical answer made Harry do a double take now and he stopped pacing before he looked down at him. “What? What do you mean? You’ve tried to take the Dark Mark off? How?”

Draco sighed heavily before he lifted his forearm up. “I’ve tried spells to make it disappear but… it came right back again.”

“That’s complete and utter bollocks, Draco. You really think I’m going to believe you tried spells to get rid of it? You’re still so full of it, after all these years.”

That made the blonde ex-Slytherin quickly jump to defensive mode, suddenly feeling anger build up inside of him. He stood up, squaring up to Harry now and narrowed his eyes as he set his jaw. “No, Potter. _You’re_ the one still full of shit. Why the fuck would I want to keep this forsaken Mark on my skin? Do you think I’m proud of it or something? _That_ would be bollocks, because I’m fucking not!”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. I don’t know why I’m still letting you even stay here! You’re a bloody Death Eater, just like your good-for-nothing father! Things didn’t end too well for him, and from what I understand, not too well for your mum either…”

Draco clenched his hands into tight fists. “You can talk shit about my father but don’t you dare say a fucking word against my mother, Potter.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Your whole family are a bunch of low-life Death Eaters who kissed Voldemort’s arse for too long and paid the price for it!”

Before Draco knew what he was even doing, he felt his fist collide with Harry’s face and then felt Harry grab his shirt and pin him hard to the wall. He tried to struggle against Harry’s hold on him, but his weak body still wasn’t strong enough to fight against him and he found himself already exhausted by the struggle.

“Harry! Let go of him right now!”

Her voice made all the fight leave Draco’s body when he saw her. Her hair was shorter, but her curls still dangled past her shoulders. She looked a bit smaller and the dark circles under her eyes made his stomach clench with uneasiness, but it was definitely Hermione Granger.

Harry reluctantly did let go of Draco and turned to look at her, breathing raggedly as he tried to calm down, running a hand through his hair. “We can’t keep him here, Hermione… he’s still the same as he always has been.”

He had turned back and looked at Draco, but he was talking to her. For not having said a single word to Harry since Merlin knows when, his words had cut Draco close to his heart. He just shook his head, unable to help but glance over at Hermione.

“You can’t just throw him back on the streets, Harry. You know that he’s in danger now more than ever. He still needs time to heal, get stronger,” she insisted, appearing to ignore Draco’s presence as she talked to Harry.

Harry had a hand still against Draco’s throat, but he released it reluctantly before he gave a frustrated huff and took a step away from him.

“Fine. Go take a shower, Malfoy. Then… do whatever you want.” He walked out of the room, leaving Hermione and Draco alone.

A heavy silence filled the room and Draco swallowed hard, unsure what to say to her. The last time he had seen her, he had been forced to listen to her screams of pain as Bellatrix scarred her arm up with a spiteful name that Draco himself never used again since. It made sick to remember that night.

She took a cautious step towards him. “He just needs time… to take all this in. He’ll come around,” she said in a soft voice. “I healed your punctured lung for you. You also had a fractured rib, and… I healed that as well.”

Draco wet his lips, this whole conversation feeling surreal, having so many questions that he wanted to ask.

“Why? Why are you helping me? I… I haven’t done anything to deserve it.”

She searched his face. “I was at the trials with Harry… I could see it in your eyes, the regret, the pain. I could see that you’re suffering, the same as us. We’re all adults now, Draco. I believe it’s time we start acting and treating each other as such. I think… sometimes Harry forgets we’re not in school anymore. Our past doesn’t matter. It’s what we do right now that matters.”

Draco nodded in agreement and gratefulness. He wanted to say so much more to her, but he found his words failing him. He was in awe at her forgiveness, at her acceptance of him being there. “Well, thank you.”

She gave him a weak smile before nodding. “Go ahead and shower. Then, come eat something.” She didn’t wait for his answer before she walked out.

Draco let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He headed back to the bathroom and closed the door before stripping off his clothes and then hopping in the shower. He washed his body, letting the hot water relax his nerves and clean the grime and grit off of him. Draco stayed in there probably longer than he deserved to, unsure when the next time he’d be able to shower again would be.

Once he had finished, he shut the water off and dried himself off before taking a look at his body in the mirror.

Scars littered his body and he was reminded once again how revolting he was. He diverted his eyes and he only just realized there was a set of pajama bottoms and a shirt on the toilet; Hermione must have snuck in and left it there for him.

He put the clothes on, ignoring how everything hung off his body. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked towards the kitchen, smelling sweet and savory smells coming from it. Draco froze when he saw Harry tense up as he entered and quickly took a seat on the end of the table, feeling like an intruder.

Hermione placed a cup of hot coffee down in front of Draco before setting two plates of food in front of both men before speaking again.

“I’m going back upstairs so… behave yourself, Harry,” she warned before giving him a small smirk and headed upstairs.

Draco sipped the coffee tentatively, letting it warm up his cold bones. He was starving as well, but he felt weird eating in front of Harry. He cleared his throat. “Do you mind if I ask a question?”

“I suppose not,” the other man shrugged, taking a bite of his pancakes.

“How long have you two been living here together?” Draco asked, genuinely curious. It didn’t surprise him that they were both living together, but it did surprise him that Ginny and Ron Weasley were both nowhere to be seen.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but we’ve been living here since the War ended. We were both alone, and it was convenient that we lived together.”

“What about the Weasleys? Weren’t you both with one?” Draco dared to ask, taking another sip of coffee. He immediately regretted asking when he saw Harry’s face pale, and a part of him felt the need to apologize automatically. “Fuck, I’m… sorry. That’s also none of my business. Forget I asked.”

Harry looked surprised at Draco’s apology but seemed to relax slightly, the tension in the room easing up a bit. He scratched his cheek. “Umm… i-it’s fine. Hermione and I sort of… grew apart from them, I suppose. Turned out they were both emotionally and mentally stronger than the two of us but… they just couldn’t help us. They both got frustrated, and… they left. Then it was just… the two of us and we grew closer.”

Draco nodded as he listened to Harry. “That… that must’ve been difficult for you, Potter.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “It was, for a long time… but… we had each other, and life somehow seems a little easier for us now without them.”

Draco took another sip of coffee. “I… I can kind of relate to that, not having someone in my life and feeling better off without them.”

Harry looked up at him finally, searching his face again. “Your father…?”

Draco thought back to their fight earlier, trying to forget the fact that Harry had made those comments about his father, but it made sense that that would be the one that Draco wanted to be without; he was rather close to his Narcissa.

The blonde nodded. “Y-Yeah. It took me a long time, but… I woke up and realized just how fucking toxic he was and somehow all the abuse over the years made sense to me. All that shit he drilled into my head every day made sense, and… it made me despise him.”

Harry appeared to relax more now and guilt touched his eyes. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier about him. You seem like you had a tough relationship with Lucius and… I didn’t even realize.”

Draco looked at him, giving him a hard stare. “You didn’t… but maybe you should also realize that you don’t know me as well as you think you do, Potter. I’m not the same person as I was in school anymore. I’m different now…”

“We’ll see about that, Draco. Let’s just… take this one day at a time, yeah?” Harry asked. There wasn’t such a sharp anger to his voice this time as there was before, just caution.

Draco nodded and started to eat.


	3. proof

**. . .**

Draco felt the need to walk on eggshells around Harry. This man held the power to choose to keep Draco safe and warm or kick him out into the cold where he’d be up for grabs for Death Eaters. Given the choice between the two options, he much preferred the former.

Especially now when the sun had gone down and it was getting later and later. He could already feel the panic begin to set in. He had seen Hermione go upstairs to her room about an hour ago, and Harry had set up a pillow and blankets on the sofa for Draco before he also started a fire, much to his surprise.

He tried to relax as he tossed and turned, closing his eyes as he attempted to fall asleep. He was warm, but comfortably so, so he stubbornly continued to switch sides continuously until it was at least ten. He found relief when he felt himself fall into sleep finally.

_“You think you’re worth anything, Draco? You’re not. We know where your loyalties lie, and it’s not with Voldemort’s side,”_

_He felt like his legs were frozen and his heart was hammering hard inside his chest as he looked out of the closet blinds at Zabini who was looking around the room._

_“You’re a coward… that’s why you’re hiding in a fucking closet. Come out, come out, wherever you are, and I’ll tell them not to kill you.”_

_Draco tried to hold his breath as Blaise walked closer to the closet door and even put his hands over his mouth to stop himself from making any noise. It was hopeless though because of course Blaise was smart enough to open the closet doors, smirking sickly when he saw Draco._

_The next thing he knew, he was screaming in excruciating pain on his knees as hot fire shot through his back as they burned a T into his skin. When it was all over, he fell over, whimpering pathetically as he forced himself not to cry._

_The pain felt so real._

_So real._

_Too real._

Draco gasped and let out a cry as he woke up, breathing heavily as his face was covered in a thin later of sweat. He looked around, taking in his surroundings and swearing that he could feel the pain still. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his eyes, resigned to not getting any sleep.

He stood up and thought about getting some water, but he really wasn’t thirsty. _He was terrified, more than anything._

Logically he had nothing to be afraid of; the front door was locked, and he wasn’t going to freeze to death or be jumped tonight. Of course Draco’s mind just wouldn’t let up.

He wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep. He didn’t know what he thought he was going to do but he grabbed the large, fluffy blanket off the couch, wrapped it around himself and quietly headed upstairs. He didn’t want to wake either of them up, but he also knew he didn’t want to be alone right now.

Draco stood outside Harry’s door and lifted up his hand to knock on it gently, but then thought better of it, and retracted his hand back down to his side. He didn’t want to get on Harry’s bad side already and risk being thrown back outside.

Instead, he hugged the blanket around him and slid down against the wall near the door, resting his head against it. He breathed in, and out, and just the thought that Harry was sleeping only a few feet away from him helped his mind to settle down again and he soon drifted off to sleep again.

  
**………. … ………..**

“Malfoy, hey… wake up,”

Draco felt a hand shake him gently and he lifted his head up sharply, instantly feeling a dull ache in his neck from his poor sleeping position. He blinked several times, sleepily rubbing his eyes with the blanket still tightly wrapped around his body with his knees tucked into himself.

“Hey, good morning. What are you doing up here? Are you sleepwalking now?” His tone wasn’t cold but merely curious.

Draco shrugged and took another deep breath before he looked at Harry, who he realized looked just as tired as him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Before Harry could say anything, they both saw a sleepy-looking Hermione appear from the room opposite, look between the two men, before she headed down the hall and disappeared down the stairs. Draco looked at Harry questioningly, but Harry didn’t acknowledge the elephant in the flat.

“Come on… let’s go downstairs and get some coffee,” Harry held out his hand to help Draco up. The gesture took the blonde by surprise, but he reached out of his blanket and grabbed it before being pulled up onto his feet by Harry.

He felt something electric shoot through their hands but if Harry felt it too, he didn’t let on. He just looked at Draco expectantly, but then a thought crossed Draco’s mind, and he didn’t care to ask it in front of Hermione.

“Err… if you two are together, why… why aren’t you sleeping in the same room?”

Harry gave a slight grimace and rubbed the back of his neck in thought before he looked back at Draco. “It’s sort of complicated, Malfoy, and… personal.”

There was a finality in his tone that signaled that it was the end of that particular discussion, so Draco just nodded in half-understanding before he let it drop, and let Harry lead them downstairs into the kitchen. He was more than curious, of course, but he also wasn’t stupid; he knew that he needed to prove himself trustworthy first or else he’d end up in Death Eater hands, so he kept his mouth shut.

In school, he was more likely than not to push Harry’s buttons, as well as those of his friends, but years had passed since then, times had changed, and everyone was still war-torn. Draco liked to believe he had matured a lot since those school years together anyway.

He poured himself some coffee and sat down at the table, next to Harry and looked across at Hermione who was sipping her coffee as well and reading the Daily Prophet quietly. Draco couldn’t believe how she could look the same and different at the same time. He glazed over her features. Her body was a lot thinner, most likely from emaciation or lack of appetite. It looked unhealthy, but not yet dangerously so. It brought him more worry than disgust; sure, he had bullied her a fair share in school, but again, things had changed since then.

He also noticed scars on her forearms, more than just _Mudblood_ that Beatrix had cursed her with, though. Now that he was closer, he also noticed than there were raised scars on her forearms as well that went vertical.

Draco must have been looking at her for too long because he felt a sharp kick under the table and glanced over at Harry who was looking at him pointedly. The blonde cleared his throat and gave an apologetic nod of understanding before he focused instead on his coffee.

“How long have you been out there for, Draco?” Hermione’s soft voice suddenly asked from across the table.

He thought back and held the mug in both his hands, warming them up. “Probably since…” He swallowed hard, unsure if he wanted to say anything at all, but he knew he had to give some answer. “Since my mother passed.”

“Oh,” she gave what he supposed was a sympathetic smile. “Right, I’m… I’m sorry. That must have been difficult for you. I do remember seeing her obituary in the paper now. It didn’t say how she died, though. I mean… if you don’t mind me asking…?”

“Hermione,” Harry suddenly intervened, a gentle warning in his voice as he looked between Draco and her now. “Maybe it’s not the most appropriate question to ask, especially at breakfast?”

She glanced over at Harry as if she were looking right through him before she suddenly turned sheepishly back to Draco and her brows creased together, as if in confusion. She shook her head and looked embarrassed now.

“R-Right, forgive me, Draco. H-Harry’s right… I shouldn’t have asked that. Sometimes I just… forget myself.”

Draco waved dismissively and gave a weak chuckle to ease the tension. “It’s fine. I mean… thanks, but… he’s right; it’s not really something I want to talk about.”

She nodded and gave a small smile before returning to her paper. Draco looked over at Harry who was looking somewhat uncomfortable now. The two men sat in a tense silence for several minutes before Hermione suddenly stood up so sharply that her chair toppled over.

“U-Umm… p-please excuse me… I suddenly don’t feel well,” she hurried upstairs, and they heard a door slam closed.

Draco raised an eyebrow in confusion and as if he were reading his mind, Harry stood up slowly and walked over to the paper, scanning it to see what could have caused Hermione so much distress. He tensed suddenly as his eyes landed upon the article and he ran a hand through his hair.

“What is it?” Draco asked softly.

Harry sighed heavily. “Susan Bones was murdered, by Death Eaters yesterday.” His tone was thick with anger, but he somehow kept it in check. He looked over at Draco, his eyes lingering on the Dark Mark for too long before he forced himself to look away.

Draco felt himself shrink under Harry’s gaze and he somehow felt responsible. He felt like _he_ had been the one who had killed her, which of course was ridiculous. He barely knew her, only _of her._ He didn’t know her last known location where she had been living, but somehow this felt like his fault.

“Does… it say who killed her?”

Harry gave Draco a sharp look now and scoffed. “Does it really matter who killed her, Malfoy? She’s dead! She’s dead because of –ʺ He stopped himself and paced slowly in the kitchen, biting his tongue.

He felt guilt be pushed into him some more and he forced himself to meet Harry’s eyes. “What? Say what you were going to say, Potter. She was killed because of what?” He challenged him.

Harry narrowed his eyes but they just looked tired. “Because of what you are. Because of _your_ kind… _your_ family! _Your_ prejudice.”

The words felt like Harry had said a curse that made tiny knives stab Draco’s chest repeatedly. He wasn’t surprised to hear this come from Harry; after all, they had spent years hating each other. Why should they stop now? He swallowed hard and realized that he would have to make a case for himself now.

He let the blanket drop from his shoulders and he stood up. “These Death Eaters aren’t my family, Potter. They’re not… _my_ kind anymore, and I promise you that I sure as hell don’t hold those prejudices against half-bloods anymore. They’re not my people.”

“That’s such a load of bollocks,” Harry shook his head and then let out a humorless laugh. “It’s funnier that you actually believe the words coming out of your mouth. All those years of bullying Hermione because of what she was, and… now this? It’s too perfect… it really is!”

“What, you think I had something to do with her death?” Draco asked in disbelief, panic edging into his chest. “I was here! It’s not like I’m ‘in’ with the Death Eaters anymore, Potter! I never even talk to my father! I’m not a part of them anymore!”

“You’re so full of it, Malfoy…” Harry spoke almost in disgust. “Prove it. Prove that you’re not in with them still.”

Draco’s head started to spin, and he felt nauseous. “Why do you think I came here looking for sanctuary? It sure as hell wasn’t because I wanted to party with you! They’re after me too!”

“Why?” Harry questioned; his jaw tight. “Why would they be after you? Your family was close to them! They were close to Voldemort!”

“I don’t believe in any of that shit anymore!” Draco insisted. “I’ve tried to burn this fucking thing off my arm! I hate it! Why would I do that if I wanted to still be one?”

Harry didn’t have any answer to this but he also wasn’t showing any signs of believing Draco either. The blonde bit his lip nervously and took off his shirt. The gesture surprised Harry so much so that he raised his wand quickly.

Draco put his hands up and then turned around before he knelt down on the linoleum floor in a goodwill gesture of surrender and submission, his hands still raised. He felt Harry’s fingers trace over the large _T_ scar on his back now, suddenly a shiver down Draco’s spine at the touch of Harry’s finger on his bare skin.

He could feel Harry’s eyes scanning his back at the rest of the battle scars he had endured, obvious that he had missed them completely yesterday.

“What does the T stand for?”

Draco swallowed hard. “Traitor,” he said quietly. “It stands for traitor.”

There was a long silence again and then he felt Harry’s fingers tracing the other scars on his back. He shivered, not having felt such a gentle touch in so long that it almost made him want to cry, but he controlled himself.

He then felt Harry gently grab his arm and help him back to his feet. “You can put your hands down now… I believe you.”

Draco turned around and then put his shirt back on, feeling a chill raising goosebumps on his skin. He searched Harry’s green eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighed, running another hand through his hair. “I do. They wouldn’t just put that on their own so easily. You really would have had to prove you weren’t loyal to the cause anymore.”

Draco nodded, remembering that day so vividly, but deciding to push it away for now; he’d probably see it in his dreams later anyway. He cleared his throat scratchily, having been ready to beg and plead to let him stay there.

“Were… Granger and Bones close, then?”

Harry put his wand down, setting it back down on the table. “Susan had killed a Death Eater that had attacked Hermione during the War. He… had cornered her while everyone else was busy fighting, and… she had been trapped there. Susan found her and killed the Death Eater, thus… saving Hermione from any… further pain.”

Draco’s brows furrowed, not fully understanding how the scene had gone down but assumed that a Death Eater had simply cornered Hermione and was about to kill her, and Susan Bones had found them and killed him. He could see conflict in Harry’s face; there was something else he was hiding, but he didn’t say anything else.

Draco had so many questions, but he kept them locked inside himself. He had his past that wasn’t proud of either, things he had done during the War, things he hadn’t been proud of… questions he knew he wouldn’t want to answer either, so he let them go.

It wasn’t a matter of trust anymore; Draco had proven that Harry could trust him now. It was a matter of simple mutual respect not to ask personal questions about anything they had done during the War, at least not until their friendship could grow more.

“Look, Malfoy… while you’re here, don’t… push Hermione into talking too much, yeah? She’s been through… a lot, and it messes with her sometimes. Just… let her be, okay?” He asked him in a tone that was suggestive, but firm.

Draco nodded. “Yeah, all right. Fine.”

“Good. Make yourself at home, then, I suppose. I’m just going to go upstairs and make sure she’s all right,” Harry explained before he threw out the newspaper and headed up the stairs, leaving Draco alone in the kitchen with his thoughts.

Draco went back to his coffee, and then poured himself a second cup before sitting down again and nursed it in his hands. He was feeling strange, foreign feelings for Harry that he hadn’t felt before. Even when he had been in danger of being thrown outside, he found that he was scared that he’d never be able to see Harry again.

This wasn’t love.

He wasn’t what this was exactly, but he felt the urge to explore it further, but then he remembered that Harry was with Hermione, and he felt nauseous and ashamed with himself all over again.


	4. family

**. . .**

The next few days felt like a trial for Draco, still feeling the need to prove he wasn’t on his father’s side but his own. Unfortunately, this involved walking on eggshells around both his hosts, which just made Draco even more uneasy and anxious than he already was.

He found it nearly impossible to sleep, and when he found his nights sleepless, he wandered around the house before he slid down the wall by Harry’s room around 3am and finally found he was able to sleep for a few hours. It wasn’t much, but it was something, at least.

It was nearly 7 in the morning when Draco felt a gentle nudge and woke up to see Harry kneeling in front of him, a habit that he had begun to do every morning now since the blonde arrived here. Draco gave a sudden jolt, the nudge clashing with his dream.

“Hey… come on. Let’s get some coffee, Malfoy,” Harry suggested gently. Draco nodded and let him lead them downstairs to start the coffee.

Draco hugged the blanket around him tighter, feeling the chill in the air from the fire burned down to just a bed of hot ash. He sat down at the table, waiting patiently for the coffee to finish brewing.

Harry hurried over to the fireplace in the living room and placed a few pieces of wood inside before walking back over and grabbing three mugs out of the cupboard. He glanced over at Draco, eyeing the bags under his eyes uneasily.

He cleared his throat. “I… have trouble sleeping too.”

“Oh,” the blonde replied, unsure what the right thing to say was. He didn’t know why he was feeling so nervous right now; it was just Potter. He felt some kind of wall up between them, but he wasn’t sure how to knock it down.

Neither of them said anything else until the coffee was done brewing and Harry poured some in all three cups, adding sugar to Draco’s as well as his own, but leaving the third cup black. He handed Draco’s cup of coffee to him and leaned against the counter as he drank his own.

“Good morning, boys,” Hermione announced somewhat cheerfully as she sauntered inside the kitchen and took her coffee before she sat down in the chair and brought her one leg up against her body as she took a sip. “You both look like you haven’t slept a wink.”

Harry chuckled lowly and shrugged. “The usual amount, I suppose. Too many… bloody nightmares.” He gave Hermione a weak smile and she returned it with an encouraging one.

“I really think we should try a sleeping draught, Harry,” she spoke in a tone that told Draco this wasn’t the first time she had brought this subject up to him. “I really believe it will help you –ʺ

“No,” Harry said firmly, shaking his head, glancing at Draco with almost an embarrassed expression before he looked back at her. “I told you, I don’t want to take anything magical like that.”

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked between them. “Why not? It’s just a draught, Potter. Don’t you want to sleep? You still live in a magical world. It makes sense to use magical remedies.”

Hermione looked over at Draco neutrally before looking back over at Harry, her eyes touched with concern. “I know that magic isn’t the cure-all; you know how I grew up, well, both of you know… but I really believe in this case it would help you, Harry. I promise I know how to brew it, and it wouldn’t take too long! Just… let me do this for you. Maybe I can even make one for Draco! It looks like he’s having difficulty sleeping as well.”

Draco and Harry glanced at each other before the blonde shrugged. He had gained respect for Hermione through the years, even if he had bullied her as well. He had liked how she had fought back against him; she was strong, resilient.

Harry sighed shakily before he sipped more of his coffee and looked back at Hermione. “All right, but… just this once, and if I sleep too long, I want you to wake me up, Hermione.”

Draco didn’t understand why Harry was so averse to using a sleeping draught for his insomnia. If he was any good at potions, then he would consider brewing it for himself. He wished he had the knowledge and skillset to do so months ago when his nightmares had started.

She nodded and smiled. “Of course I will, Harry. Don’t worry… I’ve made them before for myself in school. I’ll go start the draughts right now so they’re ready in time.”

The boys watched as she hurried upstairs, leaving both of them to their own devices. Draco rubbed his eyes unsurely, feeling nervous but when he looked over at Harry, he was surprised to see Harry looking possibly even more anxious than him.

“How come you’re so… anti-magic all of a sudden? I mean, why not take something that would help you? You couldn’t stop using magic in school, as I recall.”

Harry shot him a cold look now, and Draco knew he screwed up. “I might let you stay here, Malfoy, but don’t think I owe you anything, ever. Not all of us came out of the War smelling like roses, yeah? If you don’t like secrets, then you can just walk out of here anytime you want.”

With that, Harry stood up and took his coffee with him upstairs, leaving Draco alone in the kitchen. The blonde angrily hit his side of the table with an open hand, clenching his jaw. He wasn’t furious at Harry’s answer though; he was furious with himself. He knew that things weren’t perfect with either Harry or Hermione, and a part of him knew better than to ask questions, but the part of him that was still stuck in sixth year at Hogwarts had to come out to play and have a go at him.

He took a deep breath and finished his coffee before he also went upstairs, looking for Harry to apologize; he knew better, and he knew damn well he shouldn’t have acted so juvenile. He peaked inside his bedroom but didn’t see him. He did, however, hear the shower going.

Draco walked further on down the hallway and noticed a library he had missed before. He looked inside, seeing a flickering light coming from inside and glanced around.

Then he saw Hermione kneeling near the fireplace with two books spread out in front of her, along with a small cauldron and several beakers. He took a breath and quietly walked deeper inside, trying not to disturb her.

“Don’t take it personally, Draco,” she spoke softly, but didn’t turn around.

He cleared his throat distractedly. “Sorry?”

“This place has thin walls. I could hear him scolding you from up here. Don’t take what he says personally, though; I’ve learned not to. He’s been through a lot, and I understand why he doesn’t like the idea of this sleeping draught,” Hermione explained neutrally as she dropped four sprigs of bright purple lavender into a mortar nearby.

Draco moved closer before he sat down nearby, feeling the heat from the fire but sat where he could watch her work. “Oh yeah? Do you care to explain it to me, then?”

“No,” she said simply, adding two blobs of flobberworm mucus to the cauldron. She looked up at him from where she was working and rubbed the skin above her brow. “If you really care, then you need to let him trust you in his own time. You’ve done a lot of very… unsavory things when we were in school, Draco… he needs to remember the good you’ve done, though, and work through everything.”

Hermione’s words made sense to Draco and he nodded in understanding. He had to prove to Harry that he wasn’t the same bastard he was in school, that he had, in fact, changed. He looked down at his hands and sighed softly.

“Is there a chance this draught won’t work?” He asked, merely curious. It would be nice to get a good night’s sleep for once, but he also knew that not all potions worked the same on everyone. That was one thing he had learned in school that stuck with him.

She poured the lavender into the cauldron and heated it up. “There… is a slight possibility of it not helping,” she admitted before she waved her wand and then turned towards Draco before she crossed her ankles and stood up. “It’s slim, though. Sleeping draughts are pretty standard magic, really.”

“Good,” Draco nodded, feeling relieved. “It would be nice to be able to sleep without nightmares or… actually, to be able to sleep, period. Do you have trouble sleeping at all, Granger?”

He didn’t miss how she seemed to flinch at him using her surname. “Sometimes, but… I’ve gotten a lot better at sleeping at night. I used to be afraid to sleep, right after the War. Harry helped me with that, though.”

Draco didn’t want to be too noisy and ask her what she meant by that; she’d tell him in her own time and he didn’t want to make the same mistake with her as he had made with Harry earlier. He just nodded and bit his lip, hearing the shower turn off.

He glanced towards the door before looking back at the cauldron. “Now what?”

She walked over to him and held out a hand to help him up. “We need to wait about half an hour, and then I need to turn the temperature up high and add some Valerian sprigs to it. It’ll be done in time before you both go to bed later. Usually I get sidetracked when I make draughts or potions, and it ends up taking me several hours. I get carried away, looking up side effects, the history of the potion, so on and so forth.”

Draco took her hand and followed her out of the library. She let her drop her hand from his before she slipped into the bathroom just as Harry came out, a towel wrapped around his waist, his skin still glistening.

He stopped still, surprised to have been caught by Draco, but he looked a bit calmer now and he stood there, looking at Draco expectantly. “Everything all right?” He glanced behind him at the closed bathroom door, as if he was making sure that Draco hadn’t made Hermione cry.

The blonde nodded. “Umm… I just… want to apologize, about earlier, downstairs. I shouldn’t have been an arse and gotten nosy. It’s your business, and… I have no right to ask you anything you don’t want to answer.”

The apology made Harry chuckle slightly and then he motioned for the other man to follow him into his bedroom before closing the door. To Draco’s surprise, he dropped his towel and started to get dressed, not having expected Harry to be so comfortable with Draco seeing him naked.

He politely adverted his eyes and cleared his throat distractedly, but Harry was the one to speak again.

“You can ask all the questions you want, Malfoy. I’m just not making any guarantees that I’ll actually answer any of them,” Harry put on boxers before turning around to look at him. “You have to answer all of my questions though, being a guest in my flat,”

Draco looked back at him when he saw that he at least had underwear on now and forced himself to make eye contact with him. He chewed on his bottom lip, not entirely comfortable with this rule, but not wanting to push his luck either. He gave a small nod.

“What were you talking about with Hermione?” Harry asked now, almost protectively.

Draco tensed up a bit but shrugged. “I was just asking questions about the potion she was brewing,” he half lied, deciding it was best not to tell him about the other half of what they had talked about. “I wanted to know if there was a chance of it not working.”

Harry nodded now, searching Draco’s grey eyes before he pulled on pants and then a Quidditch team shirt. The two men were quiet for a bit before the blonde watched Harry run a hand through his damp hair.

“Hermione’s ace at potions. Whatever she brews, I know that she did her best and it’ll most likely do its job,” he replied.

Draco searched his face now, wondering if that was supposed to be Harry reassuring him. The thought made his skin tingle strangely, maybe at the prospect of Harry actually caring about him. He nodded.

“I know. I mean… she’s always been good at potions at school. I’m sure it’ll work,” he looked down, hesitant to make eye contact with Harry. “What if…” he started, but then stopped himself, afraid to ask him anything else.

Harry took a casual step closer before he looked at Draco with interest. “No, what is it? 'What if', what, Malfoy?” He asked gently, encouragingly.

Harry’s calm demeanor now made Draco calm in turn and he felt brave enough to speak some more. He met the other man’s green eyes with apprehensive in his own. “What if… I’m stuck in a nightmare that I can’t get out of, because the draught put me in such a deep sleep? What if… I’m trapped?”

Fear flashed in his eyes, but only for a brief moment. “I don’t think we have to worry about that, to be honest. It probably puts us in such a deep sleep that won’t even know we’re dreaming.”

Draco nodded but still looked unsure. He swallowed hard, starting to feel more nervous about taking this potion. It wasn’t that Harry wasn’t reassuring; it was that Draco’s anxiety kept continuously making up ‘what-if’ worst-case scenarios in his head.

Harry seemed to see Draco’s uncertainty about this and ran another hand through his hair. “Hey, umm… if you want, you can… take the potion in my room and in case you do have a nightmare, or… if I have one, then we can… wake each other up, yeah? Does that make sense?”

Draco could see that he was having difficulty attempting to be sympathetic towards him, but the fact that he was made his heart skip a beat inside his cold chest. He nodded. “Y-Yeah, it does… make sense, I mean. If you don’t mind, I think I’d appreciate it.”

“Right, well… good. Then we’ll take it together, then,” Harry said with finality. “Come on, it still won’t be done for at least a few more hours. I want to show you something.”

Draco followed Harry out of the bedroom into a room off of the library, but it looked more like a storage room than anything else. Everything was either in boxes or up against the walls, covered with sheets. He followed Harry over to a large rectangular shape and saw Harry rip the sheet off of it.

He felt his stomach turn uncomfortably; it was the Black Family tapestry tree that had been inside Grimmauld Place. He looked at all the names that were stitched with gold thread, seeing several burned off faces, but then felt like he might throw up when he saw his parents’ names as well as his own. He knew that he was there too, but it was odd seeing his name on something that Harry decided to keep in his flat.

“Why are you showing me this?” Draco asked quietly, taking a shaky breath. “Why do you have this?”

Harry shrugged at first before looked at him. “This is my family too, not just yours. I think… we forget that sometimes. Sirius was just my godfather but… he was more of a father to me than I ever knew. I saw him as one.”

Draco nodded and ran a hand over his face before he felt tears well in his eyes. He looked around and rummaged inside of a box before he found a black marker and took it before he crossed out Narcissa’s name, adding a year of death underneath it.

Harry watched him do it and was quiet until Draco was done. “What happened to her?”

He took another shaky breath and shook his head before rubbing his eyes roughly. “I’ll answer any question you want, but just please don’t make me answer that one,” his tone pleading.

Harry nodded reluctantly before he put the sheet back over the tapestry again. “Are you hungry? I can make us some lunch.”

Draco shook his head now, walking out of the room, wishing he had never seen that damned tapestry. “No, I’m not hungry. I’m just going to… rest downstairs until dinner.”

He started towards the stairs but felt Harry’s hand on his arm and he shivered, wincing slightly. Harry let go of him but didn’t break eye contact. “Hey, I just… want to not want us to be enemies while you’re here, all right? I mean… I know our families have both done things we’re not proud of, but… you can talk to me about things.”

Draco searched his eyes and saw only sincerity in them. He felt warmth fill up the cold spot in his chest now and he nodded. “R-Right, okay. I’ll keep it in mind.”

When Harry nodded, Draco took this opportunity to go downstairs, collapsing on the made up couch before placing the blankets on him. He didn’t go to sleep, but his eyes hurt. He closed them, and just listened to the crackling of the fire, finally letting the tears run down his face freely.


	5. cheers

**. . .**

Draco didn’t fall asleep but mostly just kept to himself for several hours, trying to stay out of everyone’s way. When he finally decided to sit up, he saw Harry handing him a cup of tea.

“O-Oh, cheers,” Draco thanked him, taking the cup gratefully. He held it in his hands; it felt oddly soothing.

“Sure, no problem. Did you get any sleep?” He remained standing but moved closer to Draco with a cup of tea in his own hands.

The blonde shook his head and cleared his throat, not used to talking to anyone as much as he had since he arrived here. “I try not to sleep during the day, if I can help it. I wouldn’t get any sleep at night. Did Hermione finish the draughts?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re done, I believe. She said they’re bottled for us in the library and we can help ourselves when we’re ready. I’m about to make some dinner. Do you… want to help me, Malfoy?” Harry took a sip from his mug, searching Draco’s face.

He wasn’t sure if this was a test or not. It could be a test to see how much Draco had changed during those long months of the War. Maybe it was to see if Draco was going to be a smart-arse to Harry and prove to the Hero that he was still the same Malfoy he had been in school. Either way, Draco didn’t have a good reason to say no.

He stood up and nodded. “Yeah, all right, Potter. Lead the way. What are we making?”

Harry smirked to himself before he led Draco into the kitchen and started to pull out pots and pans. He opened up the cupboard just as a box fell out and landed hard on the counter. Draco’s jaw dropped, seeing no less than ten boxes of pasta inside the cupboard, causing him to chuckle.

“Seems like someone has a craving,” he teased. “I didn’t realize you two were hardcore pasta fans.”

Harry gave a weak smile but didn’t join in laughing. He rubbed the back of his neck. “When she was going through a pretty tough time right after the War, it was difficult to get her to eat, so… I tried to get creative, and through several trials, I found out that she likes pasta with cheese sauce, so I made it for her whenever she refused to eat. It was the literally the only thing she would eat, so I like to keep it stocked, for her bad days.”

Draco felt a bit embarrassed for laughing earlier and felt his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. “Shit… I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I wasn’t thinking –ʺ

Harry shrugged but placed a gentle hand on Draco’s shoulder on his way towards the fridge to grab the butter. “It’s fine, Malfoy, really. Don’t worry about it,” Draco nodded in acknowledgement but still felt like a complete wanker until Harry spoke again. “Does chicken and veggies sound all right for tonight?”

The blonde relaxed slightly, nodding. “Y-Yeah… yeah. That sounds good.”

“Brilliant,” Harry grabbed a package of chicken from the freezer and set it on the counter before he grabbed his wand and said a spell to defrost it instantly. Draco watched him cut up the chicken and start to cook it in the pan, opting to remain quiet.

The only sound in the kitchen was the sound of a sizzling frying pan as Harry cooked and the shuffle of things as he took the veggies out to start them in another pan. Suddenly, the other man’s voice cut through the silence so sharply that it startled Draco.

“Hey, Malfoy… do you want to keep an eye on this while I add some things to the chicken?”

The offer almost took him by surprise but then Draco remembered that Harry had asked him to help him with the dinner. He cleared his throat casually but nodded and quickly made his way over to the pan of veggies.

“This may come as a surprise, Potter, but I don’t really know how to cook,” Draco confessed.

Harry let out a chuckle and handed him a wooden spoon. “It’s fine. Just… stir it once in a while and don’t let anything burn. It’s really not too difficult.”

Draco nodded and started to do as he was told as he glanced over and watched Harry cook. “Did you use to cook when you were with your Aunt and Uncle? You appear to be relatively knowledgeable about it.”

Harry scoffed. “Only against my will. I really didn’t know how to cook until Hermione and I moved in together. It was basically trial and error, to be honest. She would let me know when something didn’t taste good, so that helped. Did your mother never teach you how to cook?”

Draco let out a sudden laugh, but it came out of his mouth with an odd sound. He got himself under control and shook his head. “She wasn’t one for making homecooked meals. We had a house-elves in the Manor, similar to how they were at school. They mostly cooked for us.”

Harry smirked. “Don’t tell Hermione you had house-elves. We’ll never hear the end of it. She’ll ask you twenty questions to make sure that they had proper rights. I guess I’m not surprised you had them to cook for you, what with you having a silver spoon in your mouth since the day you were born and all…”

Draco kept his eyes down on the pan as he clenched his jaw in irritation. “We might have been wealthy, Potter, but we’re not anymore. You speak with quite the jealousy; didn’t you have a few million Galleons in your Gringotts vault as well?”

Harry shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I have that much, Draco, but I suppose I still have a decent amount still in there.”

Draco glanced over at him now, his anger gone. “You have money, but you and Hermione are living in this shithole of a flat?”

Harry didn’t look at him as he cooked the chicken, flipping the pieces over in the pan. “Sort of defeats the whole purpose of keeping a low profile if we get a nicer flat, doesn’t it? It’s safer just to lay low and deal with it. Anyway, this place isn’t _that_ bad. It’s still homey, and Hermione likes it here. She feels safe, which is important to me. For the record, this is the only place where I feel safe nowadays.”

Draco listened to him talk. He didn’t even mind his rambling; in fact, it fascinated him. Draco didn’t think he heard Harry open up to him so much since he got here. He ran a hand through his hair.

“I suppose I can’t blame you. As of lately, this is the only place where I’ve felt remotely safe as well,” Draco agreed congenially.

Harry gave a kind nod to him and a small smile before he grabbed three plates out and started to dish everything up for everyone. By the time food was on the table, Draco’s stomach gave a rumble of anticipation.

“Sit,” Harry kindly instructed.

Draco nodded and obediently pulled out a chair out for himself at the end so Harry and Hermione could sit beside each other. “Does she normally… do her own thing during the day, or is it just because I’m here?”

Harry sat down next to Draco and poured himself some water. “She does her own thing a lot of the time. We hang out on holidays, though, and occasionally go to the Three Broomsticks for a drink and hang out. Besides Honeydukes, it’s one of the only other places she enjoys going to.”

“So much for safety,” Draco whispered as footsteps creaked on the stairs. “The whole village is out in the open. Any Death Eater could attack either of you there…”

Harry made a throat slashing gesture with his hand now to silence Draco as Hermione entered the kitchen. Draco got the hint and started to eat.

“Mmm… something smells great,” she smiled at Harry. “Thank you.” She sat down at the table opposite of Draco and started to eat hungrily.

“Sure thing,” Harry also started to eat and smiled back at Hermione.

“Oh, Draco,” she spoke after she chewed and swallowed. “Your draught is all ready whenever you both are ready to go to sleep.”

Draco gave her a polite smile and nodded gratefully. “Right, Harry told me that. Thanks again, for brewing it for us. You didn’t have to do that, especially for me.”

A sadness touched Hermione’s brown eyes as she continued eating. “It really wasn’t a problem, Draco. Anyway, you helped Harry with dinner, so we’re even.”

Draco nodded, smirking. The three of them ate in an oddly comfortable silence until they had finished their meals and by that time, Draco looked over to see both their plates empty, but both of them leaning back in their chairs, Hermione glancing over at Harry with a hesitant expression in her eyes, almost childlike.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

Harry looked over at Draco. “We have a little tradition nowadays after dinner here, Malfoy. We have a nightcap and we either say something we’re grateful for, or something or someone that we miss, but we raise a toast after, so… would you care to partake?”

Draco felt like he was intruding, intruding in their private lives with their private traditions, and he almost felt embarrassed, but he decided to join them. He wanted to be a part of something. He wanted to have friends, and a family, and people who cared about him. He didn’t want to be the man he was before; he wanted to be better than that boy from school.

He nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind…?”

Hermione smiled warmly. “Of course not, Draco. Please join us in toasting.”

Draco glanced over at Harry who was now collecting the plates and setting them in the sink before he grabbed three short glasses and filled them a quarter full with firewhiskey. He walked back to the table and set a glass in front of each of them. He sat down in the middle.

“Who wants to go first?”

“I will!” Hermione offered quickly, winking at Draco. “I am grateful for… new friends,” she replied thoughtfully, looking across the table at him.

Harry also looked over at Draco and he smirked before clearing his throat and raising his glass. “I’m grateful for old ones,” he replied, looking back over at Hermione who smiled brightly and also raised her glass in agreement.

Then both of them turned to look at him.

“What about you, Draco?” Harry asked softly. “What are you grateful for?”

He thought for a short time before he raised his glass. “I’m grateful for… a roof over my head, four walls, and kind people.” A part of him felt like it had come out cheesy, but the answer was genuine, straight from his heart, and it made both Harry and Hermione nod and reach over to clink their glasses with his.

“Cheers,” Harry spoke.

“Cheers,” Draco and Hermione echoed simultaneously.

They all knocked them back and let the alcohol burn their throats before they set their glasses down again. Harry grabbed the bottle of whiskey and started to fill their glasses up about halfway now before Hermione started to shake her head.

“Harry, no…. no more whiskey,” she half-laughed, half whimpered.

“Last one,” he promised, holding a hand palm out. “I promise. This one is to… the people we’ve lost, in memoriam. To lost friends.”

Hermione looked a bit sad now, but so did Harry. Draco didn’t feel like he actually had any real friends that he lost. They had all turned on him or gotten killed because they were idiots. Instead, he thought about his mother and took the half filled glass in his hand and raised it again. The three of them clinked silently, not saying anything this time before they all drank the harsh liquid as fast as they could, possibly to numb their growing sadness.

“Right, well… with that, I think it’s time we called it a night, yeah?” Harry looked over at Hemione who nodded, wiping her mouth quickly. “Draco, let’s go grab our draughts and head off.”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, all right.” He stood up and pushed his chair in before letting Hermione head on upstairs to her room first, and letting Harry lead the two of them upstairs and into the library.

Harry grabbed the two small vials of sleeping draught and then led Draco into his room before closing the door behind him. As soon as Draco was absolutely alone with Harry, he felt an odd sensation deep within him; this felt weird, yet comfortable at the same time, and Draco didn’t know how that was possible.

“Okay, here you go, Malfoy,” he handed Draco a vial.

“Will it still work after drinking the whiskey? I mean, is it going to have any side effects?”

“No,” Harry shook his head. “Hermione would’ve told us not to have any alcohol if there was, or at least warned us ahead of time. She’s good like that.”

Draco took his vial and uncorked it for inhaling. It smelled like lavender.

Harry also uncorked his and swallowed the potion before watching Draco do the same with his. “So… you can either lay on the floor or… share the bed with me. It’s up to you.” He eyed the blonde almost cautiously, as if he didn’t trust him to be so close to him.

Perhaps Draco felt the same too. Sure Harry had let him into his home, let him eat his food, and shared a toast with him, but they still had a not so savory history together.

Draco already felt sleepy as the draught began to take effect, causing him to yawn. “I’ll just… lay down here, I think.”

“All right.” Harry quickly threw a pillow down on the floor before he grabbed several blankets and gave them to Draco before he crawled into bed.

Draco didn’t know how long it had taken, but it was not long at all as his eyelids felt too heavy to keep open, so he closed them and then held the blankets close to his body as he fell into a deep sleep.


	6. suicide mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, but times are a bit hectic right now. I hope you all are staying safe and staying at least six feet apart! Wash your hands, kiddos.

**. . .**

  
Draco slowly woke up the next morning, feeling more well rested than he had ever felt in his entire life. It was unbelievable how he felt like a different person just because he was able to get better sleep. He hadn’t dreamed about the War, or his abusive father, or his dead mother.

He hadn’t dreamed at all, and it had been the sweetest nectar of all, a dreamless slumber.

The blonde-haired man lay there on the floor, curled into the soft blankets Harry had given him the night before, and breathed them in. They smelled like lavender, just like the draught itself had smelled. He imagined Hermione doing laundry, adding relaxing scents to all the clothes and blankets, comforters and pillowcases just to help Harry and herself sleep, or maybe it had been Harry that had done it.

Either way, it didn’t matter. He felt grateful that he had been able to sleep without nightmares for the first time in a long time.

He lay there for about an hour before he heard gentle rustling above him. His eyes looked over to where Harry had slept in the bed and saw the other man stretching and sighing contently. Draco quickly moved the blankets back down so he wouldn’t look like a freak inhaling the blankets.

Harry sat upright and looked over at Draco, observing him to see if he was still sleeping or not. When he saw Draco turn his head to look back at him, he relaxed a bit. “How’d you sleep, Malfoy?”

He had to smirk slightly at Harry’s messy bedhead. His usually flat dark haired locks were curled slightly upwards. It was a sight he had never seen, but found himself thoroughly enjoying.

“Pretty well, thanks. You?”

Harry nodded but there was conflict in his eyes, maybe even a bit of fear. “Yeah, I slept great. I told you Hermione was great at potions.”

Draco half-scoffed. “I never said she wasn’t good at them. I’m conceded, not thick. I saw the marks she got from her potions and draughts in school. She was top of the class.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was admiration in your voice, Malfoy,” Harry playfully smirked.

Draco gave a soft chuckle and shrugged. “Well, good thing you know me better then, eh?” He ran a hand through his hair and stretched out his limbs himself before looking back up at Harry. “Mind if I shower?”

“No, not at all. Go ahead. I’m going to go downstairs and put the coffee on. Come out and join us when you’re ready, yeah?”

Draco nodded and then sighed, cursing himself. “Shit. I have no clothes.”

Harry stood up and took some of his own clothes out and tossed them to Draco. “You’ve been wearing my clothes thus far. Why should you stop now?” He shrugged and stepped around the blonde before heading down the hall and downstairs.

Draco looked down at the clothes and traced his fingers over the material. He hadn’t ever gotten this close to touching Harry before that wasn’t considered remotely violent, and now that he was holding his clothes in his arms, he felt almost unsure of himself.

Maybe it really was the end of the world. Maybe Hell really had frozen over.

It made anxiety ball in his chest, but he tried to push it back down and headed towards the shower instead. He got undressed and took a quick shower, washing his hair and himself down before he got out and began drying himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and then looked at himself in the fogged up mirror.

He could still see his collarbones that seemed to jut out from under his skin. He didn’t have a lot of muscle, but still enough that he could fight if he had to. A thin shadow of beard was visible along his sharp jawline, but he could also still see the outline of his ribcage. He looked unhealthy, malnourished. It would take some time before he would get more meat on his bones to the point of healthy, but he wanted to get there. Being this skinny could prove dangerous; he had more muscle in school from playing Quidditch than he did right now.

He wiped his reflection away with his hand before he opened the door just as Hermione had raised her hand to knock on it.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry…”

Draco shook his head, suddenly feeling butterflies in his stomach. “No, it’s fine… it’s all yours. I’m done.”

Hermione gave a nod and a small smile before she eased past him to go inside but then turned around quickly. “How did the draughts work for you guys? Were they okay?”

Draco nodded and let his face soften before he looked at her gratefully. “Yeah, the draughts worked great. Thank you again. No nightmares…”

“That’s wonderful, Draco. I really am glad,” she smiled back. “There’s still two more in the cabinet in the library but I can make some more this week if you want?”

“That would be… amazing, actually, but… why are you being so nice to me? We all know I don’t deserve it.”

Hermione took a step towards him but didn’t touch him. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. You’re not the only one. Anyway, I believe in second and third chances so… don’t question any of this. We’ve all been through hell… even if we were on different sides during it. We deserve something nice now, don’t you think?”

Draco felt a warmth flow through him freely and he found himself nodding. “Yeah, I suppose we do.”

Hermione smiled now and gently pushed him out of the bathroom before she shut and locked the door. A moment later, he heard the shower turn on.

Draco got changed in Harry’s room and hated how his clothes seemed to hang off his limbs. He definitely needed to get clothes of his own, but that also involved going somewhere he didn’t really want to. He bit his lip, feeling the anxiety replacing the blood in his veins.

He headed downstairs and grabbed coffee before he sat down at the table beside Harry where he was reading the Daily Prophet. He cleared his throat softly. “C-Can we… talk for a moment, Potter?”

Harry straightened a little now and looked curiously at Draco. “Yeah, all right. What’s on your mind?”

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “I appreciate you lending me your clothes, but… I’d like my own, but… they’re somewhere else.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Umm… okay? Where are they?”

“My old house,” he answered quietly, taking a sip of his coffee. He saw Harry tense up a bit.

“Oh. Well… can’t you get new clothes in town?”

_Of course he could._

“I suppose, but… I really would like to go back to my house and get them, but… I would like you to come with me.”

“Why?” The question was so simple, yet so complicated at the same time.

_Because I feel safe with you and I might die on my way without you._

“Well, it’s not exactly safe for me out there right now, is it?” He scoffed. “I just…” he sighed heavily now, scratching at his eyebrow distractedly. “I need some backup. If I go out there alone, I won’t be coming back.”

_I want your protection._

Harry took a long drink of his coffee and leaned back in his chair, seemingly contemplating this. He was quiet for several moments. “I get that you’re on the Death Eater’s Most Undesirable list right now, but I’m not exactly their favorite person either. We could both die out there, and what about Hermione?”

“I’m not saying bring her with. I wouldn’t want to put her in danger because I want some clothes.”

Harry nodded. “Exactly! I’m not putting her in danger just because _you_ want to grab some old shirts from your family home,” he sighed.

“Please,” Draco suddenly pleaded now, not looking at Harry, not daring to look at him. “Please, do this with me. She could stay here… put a security enchantment on the flat. She’ll be safe. Just… I need you to help me do this, and… then I’ll owe you.”

He knew right away that Draco’s pleas would set off alarms in Harry’s head and by the look of his face, they certainly did that. Harry was quiet again, staring at the blonde with questioning eyes. “Fine, but you will definitely owe me for this, Malfoy.”

“Thank you,” Draco nodded. “I appreciate it.”

Harry searched the other man’s grey eyes. “I know, which is the only reason why I’m doing this. When did you want to go?”

Draco bit his lip and shrugged. “Whenever you feel it’s safer to. We can apparate there and back. The only dangerous part will be the time we spend in there.”

“Yeah, and it could be a potential suicide mission, Malfoy,” Harry chided. “Do you realize that there might be a whole gang of Death Eaters in there? What happens if they spot us? I’m a good fighter, but not _that_ good. We’ll die before we can even make it out. They’ll kill us on the spot.”

Draco swallowed hard, imagining the scene. “Possibly. I’m the traitor, though. I turned on them halfway through the War. They’ll probably torture me first before killing me.”

“Well, that’s a cheerful thought then, eh?” Harry shook his head, drinking more coffee. “I’ll talk to Hermione today. You and I will go this afternoon. I can’t fucking believe that we’re going to the Malfoy Manor just to get your stupid fucking clothes that you could buy in a store anyway.”

Draco wasn’t sure what to say. He knew what he _should_ say, of course, but he couldn’t tell Harry the entire truth about this trip, not yet. He didn’t want to seem so pathetic, weak. That was the worst thing to be in these times… weak.

He finished his coffee and had another, the two men sitting in a heavy silence with an invisible brick wall between them. Draco was glad when Hermione came downstairs, dressed with damp curls that fell in thick tufts on the middle of her back. She grabbed coffee but didn’t sit down as she turned around to look at the men.

“Are you boys not getting along?” She teased lightly. “Since we’re all living together now, you two should really kiss and make up.”

Harry slowly stood up and put an arm out to touch Hermione with kindly. “We should talk about something real quick…”

Draco watched as the two of them disappeared from the room and felt guilt rising up inside of him. It was the same guilt he felt about his mother, and he hated himself for it. Harry wasn’t his mother, or brother. He was hardly even a friend right now, so why did he feel so fucking guilty about keeping his secret from him right now?

He ran a hand over his face. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself as the caffeine started to kick in, but then saw the two of them walk back inside the kitchen about ten minutes later. Hermione sat down hesitantly near Draco, as Harry took his seat again at the table.

“You _do_ realize how dangerous this is, don’t you, Draco?” She asked, searching his face.

He gave a nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Why? Why are you willing to go back there just for some clothes? If… money is an issue for you, we can buy you clothes. You don’t need to go back to the Manor just for them. You’re putting both your lives at risk for something stupid.”

“Hermione,” Harry spoke up now. “I’ve already told him this. It’s his decision.”

“Well, I think it’s a very idiotic one!” Hermione chewed on her bottom lip. “I think you’re both being foolish by doing this. What happens if you both get caught? I wouldn’t even know until it’s too late! Do you even have a plan?”

Harry glanced over at Draco. There was disapproval in his eyes but also suspicion. Harry was suspicious of Draco’s motives and he could tell that the Hero was now questioning Draco’s loyalty. He looked back at Hermione.

“We’re going to apparate there, be careful, grab his clothes, and then apparate out again. This shouldn’t take us long, Hermione. It’ll be all right.”

Draco couldn’t tell if Harry believed his own words or not, but it was evident that Hermione believed them, and perhaps that was most important right now. She seemed somewhat convinced, giving a nod and relaxing slightly.

“Fine, but… if there’s even the _slightest_ bit of danger, then promise me you’ll forget about the bloody clothes and get the hell out of there,” she insisted, looking at both men.

Harry nodded. “I promise, Hermione.”

She looked over at Draco now expectantly. He nodded as well.

“I promise.”

She let out a breath now and nodded before standing up. “I’m going to go out and start to work on the magical enchantments.”

They watched her leave and Draco felt riddled with guilt now. He sighed heavily, feeling Harry’s eyes staring into him. “These clothes better damn well have some sentimental value to you, Malfoy. I’m going to be fucking pissed if I die for nothing.”

The words were meant to come out angrily but there was a hint of joking in there as well. Draco couldn’t bring himself to laugh, however.

“Don’t worry, Potter. There’s sentimental value to me in there. If we’re in danger of getting caught, then you… just… take off,” Draco spoke. “Just leave me there.”

“What?” Harry tensed slightly, not having had expected Draco to say this.

“You heard me. If we’re in danger of getting seen, then you apparate back here. They’ll probably kill you on the spot; it’s me they want.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief and sipped his coffee. “Once a martyr, always a martyr, eh, Malfoy?”

Draco’s eyes hardened now. “This isn’t me wanting to be a fucking martyr, Potter. This is me owing a debt to you. I get that you think we’re just going there for some damn clothes, but… this trip means a lot to me, more than you can ever know, and if I die, at least I’ll be dying for something that I believe in.”

Harry’s jaw tightened.

“You’ll be dying for some fucking clothes, Malfoy. Clothes! I can’t fathom how that’s a cause you believe in, unless there’s something else you’re not telling us about this little trip! Clothes might have sentimental value but they sure as hell aren’t worth dying for, so what’s the real reason why we’re doing this suicide mission?”

Draco shook his head, having already said too much. He was getting as frustrated with Harry right now as Harry was with him, but he felt like he couldn’t tell him the truth. “If you’ve changed your mind, then just say so and you can stay home. I’ve decided that I’m doing this with or without you now, though. I need to do this, for reasons I can’t tell you. So… are you with me or no?”

Harry looked like he wanted to choke the life out of Draco, but he nodded once, reluctantly. “Yeah, I’m with you. I couldn’t live knowing that I let you die for clothes.”

Draco wasn’t sure how he was going to do this, or what to expect when they got there, but all he could think about was how thankful he was to have Harry on his side in this, even if he was angry about the idea. He knew that Harry would find out the truth eventually, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he had to concentrate on making sure they both got in and out alive.


	7. i'm not okay (i promise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been one thing after another with me. My depression and anxiety hit an all time high, then the washer broke, panic attacks ensued, and then no fanfic writing got written.
> 
> I sincerely hope you're doing all right though!

**. . .**

  
By the time they arrived at the Malfoy Manor, Draco could see the hesitation and apprehension in Harry’s eyes that told him how much he already wanted to go back to their safe house. He swallowed hard and looked around the corner, hoping that the other man wouldn’t run and leave him here to die if something happens.

They had been on opposite sides in a War that neither of them wanted to be a part of. Draco knew he had no leg to stand on asking Harry Potter to come here with him to get something that he wouldn’t understand anyway.

But then again, maybe he would understand. He hoped so, anyway.

Draco barely breathed as he listened for any sign of voices in the house, but only heard the blood rushing to his ears. He rounded the corner with Harry and started up the stairs quickly to where his room used to be.

_No, where his room still was._

He turned to Harry. “Stay out here, and keep a lookout?”

Harry nodded silently and watched Draco move into his room. It had been untouched, and although everything was riddled with dust, nothing looked out of place or damaged.

Draco grabbed a quidditch bag and shoved some of his clothes into it before he started to look for what they had actually come there for. Harry was thick if he really thought that Draco would risk both their lives for some clothes he could just buy in a store.

He knelt down by the bed and reached under it before pulling out a box and opening it. He delicately took out the locket that was inside and opened it, making sure the picture of his mother and him were still inside of it. He pocketed it in his pants before closing up the bag and walking back over towards the door.

Just as he was about to leave out of his room though, he felt a hand gently push him back in and Harry had slowly, quietly closed the door. He looked at Draco with wide, cautious eyes before he whispered to him.

“I saw someone.”

Draco’s heart started to hammer against his ribcage. “Did they see you?” He whispered back to him.

Harry gave a short shake of his head, but his face looked uncertain, and Draco felt fear filling him up as he tried to imagine who could be on the other side of the door. He knelt down before he heard footsteps and motioned for Harry to follow him into his large closet. He closed the door silently behind him before gently tugged on his arm to guide him further inside it so they would at least be further out of sight.

At first Harry had looked baffled as to why Draco was pulling him back but then caught on quickly and let him continue until they couldn’t go further back.

Even though the closet was large, it was still filled with laundry bins and his old clothing, so both men were shoulder to shoulder. Draco felt his body tingling with electricity at their gentle touch, but tried his best to calm down. Even though he was sure Harry despised him, somehow, Draco Malfoy felt safe having him here to protect him.

He then saw the bedroom door open and he felt his blood turn to ice when he saw who walked inside; it was Scabior… and he was looking like a mad dog.

Draco reached out for Harry’s arm before he knew what he was even doing, holding his breath. The whole situation was fucking ridiculous.

He was a fucking Death Eater and he was scared as hell right now of other ones.

He saw Harry look over at him out of the corner of his eye, but he swore that he saw surprise on Harry’s face instead of frustration. Then he felt a reassuring hand rest on Draco’s shoulder. When he glanced over at him, there was still a look of surprise on his face, but also kindness in his eyes that told him they would be all right.

They waited, watching Scabior walking around the room, and then lifting up the comforter on Draco’s bed to look underneath it before he glanced at the closet. Draco inhaled sharply and felt Harry’s hand gently squeeze his shoulder before he suddenly felt a slightly breeze and felt Harry move him closer to him.

It took him a minute before he realized that Harry had brought his invisibility cloak and had just flipped it over both of them. The closet door opened and then both men saw Scabior’s boots, and smelled dirt on him, cold wet Earth.

Draco didn’t care or want to know why he smelled like that; knowing that Scabior was right in front of them looking through them was enough. He felt sick with fear, nauseated. Then, relief when the other Death Eater closed the closet door and left the room.

Draco let out his breath and relaxed again. “We need to get the fuck out of here,” he whispered still.

Harry took off the cloak and sighed before he nodded in agreement. “Let’s go, Malfoy. Did you get everything you needed?” He watched him nod silently and then helped him out of the closet. “Good, come on.”

He placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder again but this time he apparated them both out of the Manor and in front of their safehouse. Harry knocked on the door, remembering that Hermione had put security enchantments on the house.

“It’s us, Hermione,” He spoke to the door.

“Prove that it’s really you two,” she replied in a tone that told Draco that this was a common occurrence between herself and Harry.

Harry glanced at Draco and gave a nod.

“You punched me in our third year, in school,” Draco sighed softly, remembering the moment.

“You fixed my glasses on the train to Hogwarts when we first met,” Harry recited.

Draco heard the door unlock and then open. Both men quickly entered and closed and locked the door behind them again. They watched her put security enchantments back on the front door as added safety, her eyes wide and alert.

He ran his hands through his hair, finally able to relax.

“Did you get them, then, Draco?”

He glanced over at her and nodded. “I got them.”

“I’m glad you’re safe,” she looked between both of them before focusing on Draco now and shaking her head now in disbelief. “You put Harry and yourself in danger over some clothes. You spoiled prat, Draco. You’ve always been so selfish, every time.” She headed upstairs without another word to either of them.

Draco felt like he was being reprimanded by his mother, and felt a tinge of resentment before he swiftly let it go and looked over at Harry.

“Thanks, for earlier in the house,” he said sheepishly. “That was quick thinking on your part with the cloak.”

Harry searched his face. “Yeah, well… you’re welcome, Malfoy. Look, you really did put us both in danger, and you can’t do that again,” there was no room for Draco to argue so he remained quiet, just nodding in understanding instead. “I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt, after all that we’ve both been through these past few months. I want to believe that you didn’t just go there for clothes, yeah?”

Draco swallowed hard before he nodded again, thumbing the locket in his pants pocket. He wanted to explain himself, explain everything, but this felt too personal to him. He searched Harry’s eyes, seeing that he was finished talking now.

“A-All right, then. Is that all?”

Harry’s eyes remained calm, but concern also touched them. There was something going on between them right now that Draco couldn’t comprehend, but he _felt_ it.

“Yeah, that’s all, Malfoy,” he nodded but didn’t look put out.

Draco moved past him and headed upstairs to go to the library. He nearly ran headlong into Hermione as she carried a box of sleeping draughts. “Shit, I’m sorry, Hermione.”

“Whatever, Malfoy,” she sighed in exasperation, quickly going to move past him.

He didn’t want them to be on bad terms now, not when they were in such close quarters with each other, and especially not now that she had gone to the trouble of making a mass production of sleeping draughts for both Harry and Draco when they needed them. It was very clear to Draco that he definitely wasn’t pulling his weight.

He reached out and gently grabbed her arm to stop her. She nearly dropped the box of draughts, Draco putting his free hand underneath it to stop it from dropping to the floor. When he looked at her again, she looked on the verge of tears.

“Please l-let me g-go, Malfoy…” she whispered shakily.

He blinked, shocked how she could go from frustrated to scared in the span of seconds. That wasn’t normal; something really bad had happened to her. He released her and grabbed the box with both hands to give back to her. “Sorry… I-I didn’t mean to –ʺ

“It’s fine. Just… leave me alone right now, please,” she grabbed the box from him and quickly moved past Draco, accidentally slamming into him as she did before disappearing into her room.

_Fuck. Fuck. If Harry finds out how he had upset her, he was going to kick his arse from here to London._

He cursed himself for being so stupid before he grabbed one of the book histories from the bookshelf near the fireplace and sat down on the floor, flipping through it. It was a somewhat recent book but as he flipped through it, he was angry to see that his mother still had the almost the same description she always did, with only a couple changes:

_Narcissa Malfoy. Mother of Draco, loving and loyal wife of Lucius Malfoy. Born in 1955, she was sorted into Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She is most known for being the Lady of Malfoy Manor._

_While she was not marked a Death Eater, she remained loyal to Lucius and their son Draco, who were both marked as such._

_Found deceased two weeks after the Battle at Hogwarts School. She died peacefully in her sleep._

He clenched his jaw before he ripped out the page and threw it into the fire before he knew what he was even doing. He watched it burn up, feeling anger flooding him. He closed the book shut before he threw it away from him, so he didn’t feel tempted to rip out any more pages.

He didn’t know if whoever wrote the stupid book didn’t know or didn’t care how she actually died, because it certainly wasn’t peaceful. Feeling a tightness in his chest, he knew he needed to find a way to calm down before he did something he would regret.

Draco stood up quickly and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. He knocked on it lightly but received no answer, so he slid inside, locking the door. He filled the bathtub with warm water before getting undressed and then sitting down in it, taking deep breaths.

_Loving and loyal wife…_

She hated him.

_Most known for being the Lady of Malfoy Manor…_

She was known for so much more than that.

_Died peacefully in her sleep…_

Lies. Fucking lies. All fucking lies.

Draco felt hot tears run down his cheeks and soon he heard himself sobbing uncontrollably, his hands trembling on his thighs. He sunk underneath the water, completely submerging himself before putting his hands to the sides of the tub to stop him from floating back up again.

He screamed, shutting his eyes tightly. He sobbed and screamed under the water where no one else could hear him. When he felt dizzy, he finally came back up for air and ran his hands over his damp hair to get it out of his eyes, letting out a choked sob.

Apparently he hadn’t been as quiet as he thought he had been because then he heard a rap on the bathroom door.

“Malfoy?” Harry asked from the other side. “Are… are you okay?”

Draco coughed a couple times from his sobbing and cleared his throat, rubbing his eyes roughly. “Y-Yeah!” He called out to him. “I-I’m fine…. I’ll be out in a couple minutes.”

“No, it’s fine. Take your time.”

Draco sniffled, feeling angry at himself now for letting Harry hear him be so vulnerable. He didn’t come here to be friends with him; he came here seeking shelter from a storm that he had unintentionally thrown himself into.

He tried to pull himself together as he pulled the plug out on the drain and got out, drying himself off with a towel before he wrapped it around his waist securely.

_You can’t trust him… because he can’t trust you._

_You keep fucking everything up! It’s the only thing you’re good at._

Draco leaned against the sink now and shook his head, trying to will the voices to go away. He hadn’t been this bad since the beginning of the end of the war; he thought it was going away.

 _“You’re such a disappointment, Draco. Why couldn’t you have been more like your father?_ ”

Draco took a sharp breath and shut his eyes, shaking his head. “Shut up. Shut up, you’re not here. You’re dead. You’re not here, and you wouldn’t say those things to me.”

_“I’m always here, Draco. I’ll always be here for you. You need to know better, though. You need to be smarter, and deadlier, like your father. He would be sick to see what kind of man you’ve become.”_

Draco could feel his breathing hitch, his tears coming down again. “Shut up! Shut up. I-I’ll never be like him. Never…”

He turned around and opened the door but ran into Harry sharply. He gasped loudly in surprise and fear at the sudden brick wall he had hit but was even more amazed when he felt arms around him, not only steadying him but also holding him firmly.

Draco was still gasping for air though, and it felt like his lungs had deflated inside his body. He glanced back inside the bathroom and unsurprisingly, did not see his dead mother there anymore.

“Hey, it’s all right, Draco. Come with me,” he led him into the bedroom and closed the door to give them privacy. He looked at the other man again. “You’re hyperventilating, Malfoy. You need to take slow, deep breaths, inhale and hold, then exhale through your mouth. Do that right now, okay?”

Draco nodded quickly, willing to try anything right now. He was the epitome of weakness at this point, so why stop now?

He inhaled slowly through his nose before letting out deeply through his mouth. His dizziness had gotten worse, but he figured that was from lack of oxygen. He breathed like this until all he was doing was crying silently, looking away from Harry.

The two men sat together for almost an hour as he let Draco calm himself down gradually. It was only then when he finally spoke to the other man.

“What’s going on, Draco?” He asked carefully. “What’s wrong?”

The blonde took a shaky breath before he let himself lean against Harry, feeling physically exhausted from his panic attack. If Harry minded, he didn’t show any sign of being inconvenienced.

“A lot of things are wrong, Potter,” he replied tiredly.

Harry could have continued to push him about it, but instead he nodded and sighed. “I know it is. It’s been that way for a long time, for both of us.”

Draco glanced up at him before looking down at his hands and nodding. “I’m sorry, about earlier. I’ve just been going through a lot of shit lately, and… I’m having constant reminders of my parents lately.”

“Now you know what I went through our whole time in school,” Harry replied, but no malice in his voice, just matter-of-factly. “I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but I just want the truth, all right? Did we really just go into a Death Eater den to get clothes?”

Draco chewed on his lip anxiously before he remembered about the locket and quickly reached over to where his pants lay on the floor. He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t just for clothes, Potter.”

“If you want to earn my trust, you’re going to have to eventually tell me what it _was_ for then,” Harry looked over at him.

“I know,” Draco nodded. “It’s just… personal, and… I’ll tell you soon.”

“You’ll tell me before the week is up, or I’ll be forced to kick you out, Draco. I don’t want to do it, because I know what could happen to you out there if I do, but… trust is really important to us, Hermione and me. If we can’t trust you, then we can have you stay here, so… you have three more days to decide if you want to be safe, or… if you want to be back out there,” Harry spoke gently.

Draco didn’t have the energy to fight with him about it, but he knew that he’d have to tell Harry soon anyway. He nodded in agreement. “Fine, okay.”

“Okay,” he repeated, clapping a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Who were you talking to in there, by the way?”

Draco shook his head, figuring that would be another problem for another day. “No one, I was talking to myself, Potter. Is that all right with you?”

Harry looked at him skeptically. “Trust, Draco… the only way you can get more of it is by opening up, and as long as you stay here, your problems just aren’t yours; they’ll be ours too. If you do decide to stay here, remember that we’re a family, and family protects each other, yeah? Honesty is a good way to earn my trust, in case you didn’t understand.”

“Okay,” Draco nodded, looking over at Harry as he stood up. “I get it. I do. Please, just… thanks for helping me, but I need to be alone right now.”

“All right, Draco,” Harry finally gave up. “I’m going to go check on Hermione. Let me know when you get hungry and we’ll make something for dinner.”

The blonde nodded and watched as Harry walked out of the bedroom, giving Draco time to be alone.

He took several deep breaths, still calm but the more he thought about telling Harry everything about himself, about the locket, about his mother, everything, he soon felt hot tears on his face all over again.


	8. the truth

**. . .**

  
After Draco, Harry, and Hermione had finished dinner, the latter excused herself from their company and went straight upstairs to her room, leaving the men alone together. Draco stood up and grabbed the plates before he walked over to the sink and started to wash them.

He heard a chair pull out and then saw Harry next to him, watching him. “You don’t have to do that, Draco. I can wash them,” he offered.

The blonde shook his head and shrugged. “No, it’s fine, Potter. I need to earn my keep around here. It’s the least I could do anyway.”

Harry wet his lips as he washed him. “That’s a good start, Draco, but… I meant what I said before about how you need to tell me the truth about things. The three of us have a sordid history with each other, and your family have done a lot of shitty things to mine, so… you understand why I’ll need to make you leave if you don’t talk to me, right?”

Draco nodded and finished washing the plates before he put them in the cupboards again and turned to him. “Yeah, I understand, but… it wasn’t _me_ that murdered Sirius, or your parents. I didn’t kill Dumbledore, or… anyone else. I wasn’t… brave enough to kill anyone. I ran away, like a fucking coward.”

Harry stiffened as he listened to him talk like that before he shook his head. “Killing someone doesn’t make you brave, especially if it’s an innocent person. You ran away so you could live to fight another day… there’s nothing cowardice about that, Malfoy. I know you didn’t care my family, but… you’re technically still a Death Eater, yeah?”

Draco looked down at the scars on his forearm that overlapped the Dark Mark. “Technically, I suppose, but I’m still branded a traitor. Traitors get killed on sight, or tortured. It’s not like I’ve been getting any special treatment or anything. I won’t last twenty-four hours if you throw me out there.”

Harry grabbed two glass tumblers and filled them halfway with firewhiskey, handing one to Draco before he motioned for him to follow Harry over to the fireplace and sat on the couch.

Draco took a long drink of his whiskey, enjoying how it burned his throat unmercifully. “Did you give me this in hopes of loosening my tongue?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know; I thought maybe we could just talk… civilly, about things. Now that we’re finally on the same side, I figured maybe we could try and be friends.”

Draco never thought he’d hear Harry say anything like that before. He also never thought he’d actually be in the same house as Potter either, but here they were. He took another drink and ran a hand through his still damp hair before he looked down into his glass solemnly.

“Well, it looks as if I can’t avoid this conversation for much longer, so… go ahead with your questioning, I suppose, Potter,” Draco invited softly.

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, not having expected Draco to be all right with doing this right now. He gave a nod though and took a sip of his own whiskey before he finally spoke.

“What else did you take at the Manor?”

Draco bit his lip, just _fucking_ knowing that that was going to have been his first question, because of course it was. He took the locket from his pajama pants pocket and held it in his hand for a moment before he handed it to Harry almost hesitantly so he could look at it.

Harry searched his face for a moment before he reached over and took the locket from him and inspected it. He opened it up and recognition came to his eyes. “This is your mother and you,” he spoke in realization. “This was hers?”

Draco gave a nod. “Y-Yeah, it was. She was wearing it when she… when she died, and… I was afraid of it being lost forever so I took it.”

Harry fingered the plating on it before he handed it back to Draco. “Were you there, when she died?”

The question that Draco feared Harry was about to ask next was coming soon, and he could feel the panic in his chest, his fingers going slightly numb. He took another drink.

“Yes, I was there.”

Harry turned his entire body towards the blonde now and searched his eyes. “How did she die, Draco?”

_And there it was, just like that._

The question that Draco feared that he’d have to answer, and this time, he knew he had to answer truthfully. No doubt Harry had read Narcissa’s obituary; no Malfoy or Black went out peacefully. Harry knew what he was asking, and it was obvious he was asking because he didn’t believe what they wrote in the papers or in books.

Draco swallowed hard before he finished his whiskey and ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, silent breath. “She killed herself, she… tied a rope from the ceiling and… kicked a chair out from underneath her.”

Harry choked on his drink, coughing a few times in shock. When he got himself under control, he looked at Draco. “You’re serious?”

“Would I joke about something like that? She was the only parent I loved, and who loved me. After Lucius went to prison, she became depressed, and everywhere she went, the press was there, and cameras constantly flashed in her face, calling her a liar, a sympathizer, just… everything. She felt lonely, even with me around, and… I think she felt guilty for feeling sad that Lucius wasn’t there,” Draco rambled aloud.

“Fuck…” Harry sighed, finishing his glass before he stood up and grabbed the bottle, bringing it over to refill both their glasses again. “I’m… I’m sorry, Draco. I had no idea that she went that way. That must have been really difficult for you.”

Draco knew how it easy it would have been to replied with a side remark, a witty bite, but he had to remind himself he was no longer that man; he was better than that boy.

“It was,” he admitted. “I had walked into the room on her when she had just died. I knew what had happened, though. I always think… what if I had been just a minute sooner to check on her? What if I had been able to save her, you know? It tears me up inside.”

Harry took another drink. “You can’t save everyone from their demons, Draco. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that. You can try, but sometimes doing your best just isn’t good enough. She probably thought she was doing you a favor, so you wouldn’t have to take care or protect her anymore.”

“No,” Draco shook his head, feeling anger in his veins. “She was doing herself a favor because she missed the bastard who abused her and her worthless son day in and day out. She wasn’t doing me any fucking favors.”

He was angry, but he felt tears in his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, taking a shaky breath. Harry reached over and put a comforting hand on his knee before they both locked eyes.

“It’s called Stockholm Syndrome, Malfoy. Hermione had it too… during the War. She explained it to me, and… it’s real. I’m so sorry that your mother chose to do that, but she isn’t to blame; your father is, and you know that in your heart.”

Draco gave a reluctant nod, feeling a wave of warmth wash through him when he felt Harry’s hand on his knee. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, suddenly unable to stop himself from crying. The alcohol had to be the culprit; he was never usually this emotional. He sniffed now, burying his face in his hands so Harry didn’t see him.

He wanted to run and hide, but he was getting more than tipsy from the whiskey, and he wasn’t sure if he could make it up the stairs. He heard a sob echo throughout the room loudly, startling him, especially when he realized it was his own.

“I-I miss h-her… fuck, Harry… I m-miss her so fucking m-much,” he cried into his arms as his whole body trembled.

He felt strong arms suddenly engulf him and he felt himself give into them, letting the arms pull Draco closer into safety. He sobbed harder, feeling pathetic and weak, but safe.

“It will be okay, Draco,” Harry spoke softly, holding him tightly. “I promise… you just need to give it some time. I used to miss my parents a lot as well, for years and years.”

Draco wiped his face with his hand and breathed the other man into his lungs. “H-How did you get o-over it…?”

“I focused on the future and the present instead of the past,” Harry answered. “I didn’t let myself get too much in my head about it anymore, and I started to think of them less and less. It made me vulnerable during fights, and it put me in danger, so I stopped focusing on the pain.”

Draco should’ve thought of this before; it was deceivingly simple, but just the thought of choosing not to think about her anymore made his chest hurt. She had been the only one he had left after Lucius went to prison, and she had been the only one who cared about him.

And now he was alone.

Draco cried into Harry until it grew darker outside and he felt so exhausted that he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. Harry lay on the couch and gently pulled Draco down as well before he draped a large blanket over both of them and fell asleep.

**………. .. ……………**

Draco woke up first the next morning, surprised he had even been able to sleep at all. Neither of them had taken a sleeping draught, but perhaps they had gone through so much emotionally yesterday that their bodies were just exhausted enough to make their brains shut off for a few hours.

He felt a warm body next to him and slowly turned over to look at Harry. The man had folded his arms across his chest as to not touch Draco in a way he might not have wanted to be touched. Watching Harry sleep so peacefully though gave him a kind of peace he hadn’t known.

Draco watched as his chest rose and fell in even waves, and he felt himself more relaxed than he had felt probably ever in his miserable life. He felt all kinds of feelings washing over him as they lay in such close proximity to each other; Harry’s presence and his closeness felt soothing to Draco.

He didn’t want to wake him, so he was careful as he slipped out from under the blankets and stood up, making sure to give the blanket back to him so he wasn’t chilly. Draco made the coffee in the kitchen before he walked upstairs and heard movement coming from the library.

He slipped inside and saw Hermione looking in confusion at the ripped pages from the book he had torn out yesterday. Draco bit his lip and he moved further inside the large room, over to her.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized right away. “That was my doing. It was my fault.”

Hermione looked up at him with even eyes and examined the page before searching his face. “Why did you tear this page out, Draco?”

“It read invalid and insensitive information about my mother,” he answered softly. “I got angry and I tore the page out before throwing it into the fire. It was outdated information.”

Hermione’s eyes grew softer. “I’m sorry, Draco. I really think that deaths are personal, and they only should be known or read by the relatives, and no one else.”

For a moment he wondered if she knew the truth about his mother, but that would be impossible. He had been the only person who had known about her suicide. He figured that since she would find out from Harry soon anyway, it might look better in his favor if Draco told her the truth.

“M-My mother… hung herself. She died from grief. She didn’t die peacefully in her sleep.”

Hermione looked surprised at the heavy bit of information, but she gave a sympathetic nod. “That’s so awful,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Draco.”

“Thanks, Granger… I suppose it does feel good to get it out there, though. Only Harry and you know about it,” Draco sighed.

She nodded in acknowledgement before she put the book back on the shelf and took a step closer to him. “I know it can’t be easy for you to be here with us. I mean, it must be an odd situation, given our history together… but… I _am_ grateful that you’re here, on our side. I know Harry’s probably already told you his big speech about trust, but it’s true, Draco. Trust really is important these days, and… as long as you tell us the truth, then you can stay here with us, and be protected. We’ll help protect you.”

Draco felt weak as she told him about them protecting him, but he had to admit that he also didn’t mind. He still had his wand, but he felt worthless. He wasn’t in a good place mentally right now, and he was weak physically as well. He wouldn’t be able to protect himself until he got his strength up again, but that might not be for awhile either. As much as he hated to admit it, Draco needed them.

“Right,” he nodded. “I think that I might appreciate that, actually.”

She gave a small smile. “Good, then… don’t give us a reason not to trust you, and we could all live here peacefully, I think.”

He gave a nod in understanding. “All right.”

“Excellent, help me make breakfast?” She offered kindly.

He smiled as well now, enjoying the offer to feel worthy of their kindness. As he followed her downstairs into the kitchen, Draco started to think how maybe he could be a different person from the man he once had been.

Maybe he didn’t have to be tortured by his past anymore, and he could be someone else entirely. Even if he just pretended, perhaps he could be happier than he ever imagined. Maybe he could also figure out how to make those butterflies in his stomach stop every time he looked at Harry.

It was a worth a shot, right?

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you're reading, subscribe to keep enjoying updates! Oh, and comment if you like it! 
> 
> Title taken from the awesome song, "We're All In This Together," by Ben Lee.


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